


knocking on heavens door

by Sonofthebattle



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Trailer, Gen, M/M, Major Character Injury, Possible Character Death, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 00:59:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18377702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonofthebattle/pseuds/Sonofthebattle
Summary: It is here, on the final battlefield that Tony finds Steve.--speculation for Avengers: Endgame





	knocking on heavens door

The carnage of Titan surrounds them, blood red sky and pure wreckage across the landscape. The aftermath of the battle seems so quiet in comparison to the fight that it feels nearly deafening. White noise is ringing in Tony’s ears. There’s a line of blood running down his ear and his ear drum is most likely ruptured. He can feel broken fingers in his gauntlet and his left leg nearly drags. He can’t tell if it’s broken, but it may as well be. Thanos had brought his full weight to bear on it when he had Tony pined. Carol had knocked him off, a second too late, but the damage was done. 

But it’s non-consequential. It’s done.  He can hear the muted and muffled noises of the rest of the team in the distance, gathering themselves, taking stock of injuries and looking for each other. In the corner of his eye, he sees Nebula approach what remains of Thanos. The fatal final blast, a combination of power from Carol and Thor, has made him barely unrecognizable and the sight is far from pretty, but he imagines Nebula needs the closure. They all do. 

The blood is still singing through his veins, adrenaline quickly dissolving into fear as he reaches Steve's side. 

Because Steve took the brunt of the fight. He was down for the final charge, and now, free to reach him with Thanos put down, Tony is terrified at what he's about to find. Because Steve hasn't gotten up. And he always gets up. 

Steve, who threw himself in front of Tony when Thanos charged. Steve, who went punch for punch with the Mad Titan to buy the rest of the team more time when they needed it. Steve, who was torn with grief but convicted with justice and determined that Thanos had to pay. Steve, who used to talk Tony through a panic attack, who used to sit up and watch movies with him in the tower, who sketched quietly in Tony’s workshop on a battered futon while Tony worked through the night. Who used to smile at Tony with a softness in his eyes, once upon a time. 

Steve. 

Tony drops to his knees beside him. The creak and groan of metal as he falls is enormous, broken metal pinching and piercing his body in too many places to count. Parts of the suit are so broken they have completely fallen away. His fractured leg screams out in pain. But he barely feels it. 

Steve’s breathing is ragged, drawing mangled breath through his mouth, jaw working against the pull of death. Tony’s vision whites at the sight of him, laying on the ground with his hair plastered to his head with blood. The long blonde strands are slick with sweat and red, sticking to the side of his face. His left eye is swollen shut and blood runs along the bloated skins in rivers, trickling down his face in a steady stream. There is nothing where his right arm used to be. It is a giant space of absolute nothing and it's absence is nearly incomprehensible. Fabric from his uniform sleeve has been tired around the end and it is black with blood.  _ A tourniquet _ , a helpful voice in the back of Tony’s head supplies. Steve’s uniform is torn nearly in half across the middle and grey with soot and ash. The bright white star across his chest is nearly black, but whether it’s from the soot of the explosion or blood, Tony can’t tell. The rest of him is simply a mangled mess. The latent genius part of Tony’s mind rushes to catalog injuries but they're too numerous to count. His heart is pounding, pulsing with uprooted pain and he can hardly focus on more than one thought. 

Steve.

_ Steve. _

Tony reaches for Steve’s face, afraid to touch the rest of him. Steve's gaze is locked on him, the one eye staring straight into Tony’s face. He can see the other eye following useless suit as it quivers beneath the taunt skin. 

“Tony?” he asks somehow. “Y-you okay?” 

The cracked voice sounds bloody. Blood. It’s everywhere. It’s on the ground, it’s in Steve’s hair, it’s in Tony’s mind. He wants to scream, cry in hysteria, shoot rockets into the space. He wants to tear the infrastructure from the sky, rip the very iron the soil. He wants to punch Steve and demand to know _why_.

But if these are Steve’s final moments Tony cannot bring himself to be cruel.

“Yes,” he manages over the boulder obstructing his throat. He swallows, throat dry and eyes wet. “Yeah Cap, I’m fine.” He lays a light hand on Steve’s chest over where he knows the star would be, desperate for at least a touch of contact. 

Steve, against what must be an ache greater than the pain in Tony’s mind has ever been, brings his left arm, his only arm, up to catch at Tony’s shoulder. Tony’s shoulder is exposed, it took a hit from the Power stone, the metal fallen away to leave his shoulder nearly bare. Steve’s white fingers are clenching the tough fabric of Tony's black under suit as they latch on. His lone eye focuses on Tony’s face and, against everything, he smiles. 

Tony is searching for something, desperately wracking his brain for something to say. His whole life, words have flowed through his brain and out of his mouth at a rate that Pepper bemoan as humanly impossible. But Tony is frozen in this moment, the enormity of the last twenty four hours collapsing around him. 

Distantly he can Rhodey yelling in the background behind them and suddenly everyone is yelling. Steve’s gaze becomes fixed on something behind them and Tony turns in tandem to see what’s caught his attention. In the clearing, there’s a flash of light, a rush of noise and suddenly, multiple figures are materializing through the light. As the brightness abates, Tony can make out Sam, Wanda, Quill, Peter. More are appearing, more than Tony can see, and the shock of it nearly bowls him over. 

_ They’re back. They’re here, _ his brain is whispering at him. Peter is here. He’s alive. He can see the kid from here, the shock on his face is plain, and Stephen Strange appears behind him. They’re whole and talking. Rhodey nearly tackles Sam, Natasha wraps Wanda in a hug and they’re all laughing and crying in relief. Peter is engulfed in an embrace by Strange and Thor and still people are  _ appearing _ . All of them, alive. 

Steve makes a noise, somewhere between a grunt and a groan and Tony’s attention is right back on him. He’s smiling at him still, slightly crooked. But it’s the same one that Tony’s so familiar with, that damn-the-gates, take-on-all-the-comers, don’t-tell-me-nothing smile. It's charmed and infuriated Tony for years. 

“W-we did it,” he rasps. 

It’s too much and the water is overflowing from Tony’s eyes. Relief and grief are so mingled that he has no idea which is which anymore. He reaches for Steve’s arm still latched onto his shoulder, closes his hand over Steve’s white fingers. His face screws and his eyes shut in an attempt to hold back the barrage of emotion. He opens his eyes immediately at a wet sound, Steve’s cough, and he tightens the fingers in his grasp. He opens his mouth to speak. Steve’s gaze is locked on his, attention never wavering. The blue in his eye is so earnest and bright. It’s still as breathtaking as the first time Tony saw him. The words catch in his throat and refuse to come. 

He leans forward and presses his forehead to Steve’s and just breathes, feeling the soft  _ whoosh _ of his breath in their shared space. Steve’s breathing is ragged but his grip is still strong, tightening his grip on Tony’s shoulder even as his lone eye flutters shut. 

Behind them, the universe spins on. 

**Author's Note:**

> i apologize for this angst, but i need to get it out of my system
> 
> i cry, y'all


End file.
